


A man, a planet, a house, and a tree

by soupypictures



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupypictures/pseuds/soupypictures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe Dameron has a series of life goals best achieved in a peacetime society, but he's never been one to follow the rules. </p><p>or</p><p>Poe Dameron reunites with his Corellian lover who's been home on a diplomatic mission to secure more starships for the Resistance. He's not happy with Poe's most recent adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A man, a planet, a house, and a tree

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile, lol. 
> 
> This takes place just after the events of Episode VII. The spoilers are ... pretty minimal. But what are you doing here if you haven't already seen the movie?
> 
> Enjoy.

Find a good man and a nice backwater planet that hasn’t seen too much of the war (the geography is dwindling). Build a house. Plant a tree. _Settle down._

Poe scoffs, stripping out of his flightsuit. An impossible dream, and yet, one for which he still aches. “One out of four ain’t bad,” he says to himself, stepping into the ‘fresher and taking a look at himself in the mirror. He needs a shave and a real shower, but his quarters are equipped with just the sanisteam so he’ll have to settle.

Settle.

He sighs, shutting himself in the sanisteam and going about the perfunctory cleansing ritual of a post-battle pilot. He’s already delivered his after-action report, but with Starkiller Base destroyed -- a flash of pride zings through him -- they’re in a sort of limbo. No mission yet. No recon (outside of flying that’s his favorite rebel activity), no plans to find, no one to track ... ostensibly, it’s a good time to rest. That’s what General Organa told him to do, but that’s not how he’s programmed. He and BB-8, they both know how to keep rolling. As soon as he’s gotten a cycle of sleep under him, he’ll be heading back to headquarters to nose around and get himself a new mission.

He misses the real shower he grew up using back on Yavin IV. The water got so hot, and he could use as much as he wanted. He knows now why his parents spent so much of their resources on the ‘fresher. Nothing like spending most of your life in space to make you appreciate the basics.

His comm unit chirps from his bed, where he’d tossed it once he’d finally made it to his quarters. BB-8’s familiar bleets filter through to the ‘fresher and Poe furrows his brow in concentration. He misses too many syllables to make sense of the message so he cuts his unsatisfying sanisteam short. A moment later he has his comm unit in his hand, asking BB-8 to “repeat that, I was getting cleaned up.”

_“Good Man on his way.”_

“Oh is he?” Poe smiles, a thrill lancing through him. “I thought he was on Corellia?” Low on starships even before the destruction of the Hosnian system, the Resistance had sent a negotiating party to Corellia to make a deal for ... well, anything the Corellian Engineering Corporation was willing to let go of.

_“Republic capital destroyed, mission failed.”_

“Sith,” Poe curses, running a hand through his hair. “ETA?”

_“Imminent.”_

“Thanks, BB-8. You get that oil bath Shenda promised you, can’t let all that sand sit for too long.”

_“Will do, buddy.”_

Poe smiles at the send-off and attempts to make himself presentable. He pulls a pair of fairly clean trousers from his go-bag and slips into them. A standard-issue Resistance PT shirt follows that, and he’s fingering the name across his chest when there’s a coded knock at his door. He keys it open to reveal his one-out-of-four. “Marek,” he breathes, quickly cataloguing his lover’s physical state. “You _look_ intact.” Still has all his limbs, hair a little longer than the regulation cut he tries to maintain, and only the one scar on his jaw.

Marek rolls his eyes with a short laugh. “Poe Dameron, ace pilot, concerned about _my_ well-being when he’s the one who’s been in constant danger since I left him to his own devices.” Marek looks over Poe’s shoulder. “Got any company, or ...”

Poe moves aside, letting Marek enter his quarters. The door slides closed behind him and Poe finds himself gathered up against Marek’s body. He’s solid, unbroken, warm, _present._ “BB-8 said Corellia didn’t work out,” Poe says into Marek’s shoulder. 

“It’s a good thing you didn’t destroy _two_ X-wings.”

Poe grins and leans back in the embrace. “You heard about that?”

“Of _course_ I did.” Marek’s look is serious, too serious for Poe, so he steals a quick kiss, and then a longer one. “I heard about your adventures when I checked in with the General.”

 _Still too serious._ Poe bites his lip, knowing what it does to Marek and trying to avoid this conversation for at _least_ the next ten years.

Marek brings his hand to Poe’s jaw and runs his thumb along Poe’s lower lip. “No, that’s not going to work this time. We need to talk about your risk-taking. You could have _died_ on Jakku.”

Poe sighs. “So we’re having The Talk.”

“Yes, we’re having The Talk.”

Poe sits on the edge of the bed, realizing once his legs aren’t bearing his weight that he’s _exhausted._ Marek pulls the lone chair closer to the bed and collapses into it. “Listen, Poe --”

“I _love_ you, Marek,” Poe interrupts. 

“Stars, Poe, I don’t doubt _that_.”

“And just because I take risks, that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of you _all_ the time. I don’t know how to do this any other way. They need me. And I can _do_ this, I can help.”

“You don’t _always_ have to be the first to volunteer for every dangerous mission.”

Poe flings himself back on the bed, unable to take Marek’s earnest words. “Yes, I do! I don’t know anything else.”

“But you _do._ ” Marek nudges Poe’s foot with his own, prompting the pilot to prop himself up on his elbows and look him in the eye. “Your parents had something different.”

“Yeah. They did. After years of dangerous missions they volunteered for, even after having _me._ ” He cocks an eyebrow. “Is that what you mean?”

“All I’m asking is that maybe ... maybe you take a break for a little while.”

“Marek, we’re in a new galaxy right now. The Republic is _gone._ ”

“Do you have orders yet?”

“Orders? No.”

“Then don’t go looking for a new mission. Let the next one come to you.”

 _Reasonable request._ “I can do that.”

Marek stands from the chair and takes Poe’s offered hand, lying down beside him on the bed. “What do you think about D’Qar?” 

Marek’s ice blue eyes are arresting in any situation, but this close and focused on him, with his hand held tightly, Poe has trouble with the non sequitur. “What about it?”

“It’s a nice planet. Definitely backwater.”

Poe smiles. “Let’s put it on the short list.”

“I’d offer up my own homeplanet, but it’s definitely not backwater, and after my little visit home I’d say not exactly nice either.”

“Oh, will you renounce your citizenship?”

“Let’s not be hasty,” Marek laughs, and Poe rolls onto his side.

“You understand why I do this, right?” Poe asks quietly, fingering the yellow piping on Marek’s pants. He’d tried once to pry out of Marek how he’d earned his Bloodstripe to no avail. He’d registered the mix of pain and pride in the soldier’s eyes and hadn’t tried again.

“I do,” Marek answers. “I just want you to come home to me every time you leave. And crashing squints into desert planets isn’t going to result in that outcome more than once.” Marek’s gaze flicks down to Poe’s chest. He traces the letters of his own surname beneath the crest of the Resistance. _A N T I L L E S,_ with the second **L** halfway gone from wear. Poe closes his eyes at the soft touch and feels his deep exhaustion pulling at his consciousness. Marek’s voice yanks him back just as quickly. “Let me at least get you under the sheets.”

Four minutes of shuffling and rearranging limbs later, Poe and Marek settle in the bed. For the first time in an uncountable span of time, Poe is home. He rests his head on Marek’s chest, over his beating heart, and thinks that if he did only get one out of the four, that really would be okay. _As long as it’s this one._

**Author's Note:**

> jesus christ that's straight up cotton candy.


End file.
